Rene was still in love with me "his need for a better girlfriend at the pueblo." After Clara, on her third attempt, managed to commit suicide, Mary hired a young, very quiet and religious mistress. And a cook from Barbados who spoke English and Spanish "but no one can tell the difference. He sings Protestant hymns all day while he works but I have learned not to hear them." Mary had gone to see her mother again, gravely ill. Gianfranco worked hard, dividing himself between the office and the finca that we Ivancich had bought.
It was always creating new problems, that estate, unfortunately. To buy it we had sold some land in the Veneto region, sure of making a good investment, sheltered from the risks that could arise from the increasingly turbulent and confused Italian politics. But it was like getting into a slot machine that swallowed money and never returned it.
Papa too was worried about money, that is: "Taxes, super-taxes, extra-taxes. I have such a high mountain of taxes that in comparison the Dolomites are an empty flat lagoon. It seems to me that I work only to pay taxes."
So that evening Antonio, Luigino and I - thanks to Bemelmans' invitation - found ourselves luxuriously gathered on the Roof of the Danieli, overlooking the Lagoon, attentive waiters, table with flowers, candles and scampi cocktails.
"You must have seen Hemingway again in Havana." Bemelmans said to Luigino.
"Not only did he see him again. He even slept at the Finca, in my Casita," I said, turning the prawns in the bowl so that they could be flavored with sauce. "Papa says it's really funny, every time Luigino arrives in Havana, he and Gregory catch the biggest fish of the year."
"Have you been fishing with Hemingway?" Bemelmans asked Luigino.
No comments:
Post a Comment